by Marni Mann
Anything looked good on him.
His stare returned and intensified. “Then stay here until you can afford something of your own,” he insisted. “It’s not safe for you to be there, especially after last night.”
He had a point. I could imagine that creep hovering over me, and it made me feel ill. “I don’t know.”
“Are you using his drugs? Is that why you’re not saying yes to me?”
“No!” It came out much louder than I’d intended, but my point needed to be made. “I don’t do any of that shit. I just smoke weed.” That was a weak follow-up. “But I do a lot less of that than I used to.” I realized that he hadn’t been around when I’d started smoking, so I understood why he would ask. It still sucked that he had thought that. “I’m just not sure that staying here is the right thing to do. It’s a whole lot of you all at once.”
He laughed, his eyelids closing down to a squint. He dropped his hand in my lap. “Still honest as hell, I see.” His thumb traced a circle over my thigh. “We work opposite hours, so you wouldn’t be seeing a whole lot of me. You would be in my house, and there would be a lot of my things around, and I’d make sure you got your fill of me. But I’d give you your space.”
There was no question that “your fill” had a double meaning.
“I can’t make this decision right now,” I told him.
“Sure. Just think about it, please.”
My fingers pulled out of the couch and rested on my stomach. They itched to touch his skin. His abs and his biceps had always been the most defined parts of his body. From the way his T-shirt clung to him, it looked like that hadn’t changed.
“That guy who called you last night…will he be showing up at my door to check on you?”
It suddenly felt like his hands were on my throat, squeezing all the air out of me. There was nothing for me to hide behind. No blanket…no umbrella. I wanted one, at least. Or both. “What guy?”
He shrugged. “Before you got sick, you told me someone called you and didn’t leave a message. You never said his name.”
Fucking alcohol. I never would have said that to him if I hadn’t been drinking. The only person I would have told that to was Brady.
“Did I say anything else?” I asked casually.
He was reading me again. If he had seen the truth of my past, he would have been perfectly justified in dragging me off the couch and shutting the front door in my face and never speaking to me again.
That was what I honestly deserved.
“No,” he said. “You didn’t say anything else.”
A little relief came when his words sank in. But now he had reminded me of the phone call, which was something I had forgotten about. The call was part of the reason I had slammed so much beer last night. I was trying to bury it.
To bury him…Gerald.
To bury those years of my life.
And the closer I got to December, the worse it haunted me.
I shook my head, trying to push out the thoughts and return to Hart’s question. “He won’t be showing up here. He’s just someone I used to know. That’s all.”
That was all he was getting out of me. There was no way I was going to discuss who Gerald was, or why he would have been calling me. I didn’t even know if it was him. I just had a feeling. But my feelings were usually right.
His thumb was tracing larger circles now, and deep rectangles that almost reached my hip. “And there isn’t anyone else?”
“No.” I spoke so softly. “There isn’t anyone who would show up unexpectedly, here or anywhere else. Don’t worry, you can put your fists away.”
He smiled. “As long as you’re with me, I can never put them away. I have to protect you.”
I had felt secure whenever I’d been with Saint or Brady, but my relationship with them wasn’t about that. It was about caring for them. The feeling I had with Hart was deeper than just a sense of security or not having to worry about anyone harming me. He had already proven how far he would go to keep me safe by rescuing me from Caleb and Jeremy’s horrible party. It made me want to trust him.
Even more, it made me feel like I actually could.
I turned my head and watched the TV screen. If I hadn’t dragged my eyes away, I didn’t know if I would have been able to stop myself from leaning forward and kissing him.
The thoughts in my head were so fucked up.
For years, I’d been running from my past, and Hart was such a huge part of that. Yet there I was, heading right toward him. I was giving him a chance, even though I’d sworn to myself that he’d never get another one. He was proving himself worthy. And I wanted his lips on me…and his hands, as long as he kept them in the right places.
I wanted more.
“You’re going to stay the night at least, aren’t you?” he asked.
I hated that he knew my thoughts even when he wasn’t reading my eyes.
“Yes.” I slowly turned toward him again. He gawked back through hooded lids. And when his lips parted, I gazed between them until I saw his tongue. I wondered how fast he could flick it now, how flat he could make the tip, and how pointed. I swallowed, trying to settle the tingling between my legs. “But I’m sleeping in the guest room.”
“No hands,” he whispered, carefully leaning closer to me. I wasn’t sure what he meant until his nose landed on the side of my jaw, rubbing its entire length and across my chin. I could almost taste his gummy worm-scented breath. His exhale spread over my chest like a thick, hazy fog. “Though I’m sure I can get you to change your mind.”
The deep breaths weren’t helping. I squeezed my nails into my palm, trying to concentrate on the pain rather than the feelings exploding inside me. That didn’t do anything for me, either. “Not tonight, you can’t.” I turned from him and reached for the remote. “Now play another movie, before I make you take me to Caleb’s.”
He kissed just below my ear. “You know I won’t take you back there.”
“What if I beg?”
“Fuck, Rae. If you start begging, I’m going to slide off this couch and get on my knees…and the place I head to won’t be Caleb’s.” His fingers crawled over my stomach, his palm finally resting just under my ribs. The pad of his thumb continued to graze, this time over my belly button piercing. “Beg me to kiss you.”
I knew what his mouth could do to me. I pushed off the couch, trying to stand up, but he stopped me just as I rose from the cushion and pulled me back down. With his fingers now wrapped around my hand, he guided me to him. Our faces were aligned, only inches from each other.
“Beg me,” he repeated.
Whatever air he breathed out, I sucked into my mouth and swallowed like smoke. I was melting beside him, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“Beg…” His voice was soft and deep and so demanding. It triggered the wetness between my legs. My stomach jittered.
I pressed my fingers onto his lips, tracing their outline. I wanted to feel his unmarred skin, to be reminded of its texture. His thick, coarse stubble pricked my flesh. I covered both sides, wandering down to his chin and over his jaw.
I could feel him looking at me without meeting his gaze.
I passed over his lips again on the way to his other cheek. He kissed behind my knuckle. He gripped my waist even tighter, drawing me to him without actually moving me.
He was demanding me to beg for his mouth, and my submission would confirm his control. But there was no way I was going to bend so easily. I was going to give him the best part of me…the part that hadn’t been broken or abused. The part that wasn’t scarred. And for that, I needed to take my time.
I moved closer, my breathing becoming more rapid. The pulsing in my chest shivered through my stomach and settled in the spot between my legs. There were inches between my mouth and his…and I stopped. My eyelids shut. Air came through my nostrils, hit his face and bounced back. He was breathing just as hard as I was. His fingers would leave a bruise on my side, but I didn’t care. I wanted
the pain. I wanted the mark. I wanted to look at the imprint of his desire like ink across my skin and remember this moment in the morning.
I slid another inch closer.
I knew once I tasted him, everything between us was going to change. I would move into his house. I would eventually open up, share the past that I kept so tightly bound. I knew it would be a struggle to reveal those secrets, but it didn’t seem important with his face so close to mine.
What I wanted was overcoming what I feared most.
It pushed me to press my lips to his. I thought once I gave him what he wanted, his touch would lighten. I thought everything within me would begin to unwind. I thought I’d be filled with a sense of calm, having let go of the tension that was building. None of that happened. The noise of our mouths merging, the feel of his scruff spreading over my face, the taste of his tongue—it all built up a tingling surge within me. I wasn’t leading this kiss, and I wasn’t leading the buzzing that was happening inside me.
I’d given him complete control, and it was exactly what I wanted.
What I needed.
First, his lips caressed my top one…then the bottom…then his tongue circled mine, and he pulled me close. I was being drawn into his storm.
And yet, I wasn’t close enough.
My hands gripped the bottom of his T-shirt. It was so tempting to rip it off, to eliminate everything that separated us, to inspect him, to relearn every line and mark and ridge on his body. To become acquainted with how it had grown from a boy’s body into a man’s.
I wanted to hear the stories behind whatever scars he’d collected.
But I couldn’t have that tonight. Tonight was about my lips, and he had those in his possession. They were sore and swollen, and his whiskers had brushed over my face so much I could feel the redness on my skin. Tonight, the pain wasn’t something I resisted. He had saved me, and my pain was part of that exchange.
I placed both hands on his cheeks and after one final breath together, I pulled my face away. My eyes opened at the same time his did. He leaned forward and gently kissed the tip of my nose, leaving me again almost immediately. It was such a cute gesture after the intensity that had just passed between us.
“I’m going to have a hard time keeping my mouth off you.”
I smiled, feeling my skin turn even redder. “You’ll get only what I decide to give you.” That was almost laughable. It had taken every bit of strength I had to pull away from him. I doubted I’d be able to do it again. But I didn’t want him believing he had all the control.
“You’ve got it all wrong, baby.” His stare moved down to my lips, pausing for several seconds before it moved back up. “I’m the giver here. And when it comes to your body, I want to give constantly. The only decisions that need to be made are which parts of my body I’m going to use when I please you, and how many orgasms I’m going to let you have.”
I could tell that he saw in my eyes the effect his words were having. Knowing how well he read me, he probably saw the wetness coating my inner thighs.
“Does that smile mean you’re begging for one of them tonight?” he asked.
Yes.
The remote was on the couch between us. I picked it up and handed it to him. “Movie. Now.”
His laugher spread through me like thunder. It was such a sexy sound. “I didn’t think so.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE BED IN HART’S guest room was king-sized, wrapped in soft white sheets and an overly fluffy down comforter. It felt like I had been sleeping in a cotton ball. I hated to climb out of it, but I’d been awakened by a text from my mom. She had listed her schedule for the whole week; if we were going to have coffee, today was the only day that would work. My reply told her I’d meet her in an hour.
I showered quickly and used the hair dryer that I found under the sink. It was too cold now to go out with wet hair. I didn’t have any cosmetics, so I finished my morning routine by using the toothbrush Hart had given me and dressing in the sweats, T-shirt and hoodie I had worn last night. His scent on the clothes had faded a bit since yesterday, but I could still smell hints of him everywhere.
When it was finally time to go to sleep, he’d walked me to the guest room, and I’d closed my door without kissing him goodnight. It was safer that way. I knew his lips would only lead me straight to his bed. Then I’d leaned against the back of the door, listening to him move down the hallway and close his.
Now as I stood outside his room, I wondered what would happen after I knocked. I lifted my hand and tapped gently.
“Come in,” he said.
I cracked open his door and peeked inside.
He smiled. “Seeing you in my clothes never gets old.”
There were sheer white panels covering the windows, but they let in enough light that I could see every detail of his room. It took up the entire back corner of the house, with two full walls of glass that showed the most spectacular view of the ocean. The posters and the video games and the light wood furniture that had once been in here had all been replaced. The bed sat under the slanted roof, the bedding in mid-gray tones. Bold lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling, and all the furniture was now in chocolate-stained wood. It had a quiet elegance and a grown-up masculinity.
But the room was only a cloud-filled backdrop.
What held my attention like a searing sun—what I couldn’t drag my eyes away from even if I’d tried—was Hart. He was sitting up, leaning against his headboard, with the sheets resting across his waist. He had no tattoos or visible scars. He was perfect, with the build of an athlete, muscles so defined I could rest my finger in the valleys between his abs. My vision traced the trail of hair that started at his belly button and disappeared beneath the sheet. From the way it rested over his lower half, it didn’t look like he was wearing anything underneath.
It wasn’t as if I’d forgotten how beautiful the shape of him was, but the image of him wasn’t as crisp in my mind as my feelings for him. After this stunning reminder, I couldn’t believe any of those details had ever left me.
My pain made me forget as many things as it made me remember.
His eyes gleamed. “Do you want to get in?”
My skin was already flushed from seeing his body lounging in bed. His invitation only made it worse. My eyes slowly drifted up his chest, past his neck, stopping when they reached his stare. I did want to get in. I wanted to do more than that, really. But it was still a huge step to take, and it was too late to cancel the plans I’d made with my mom. “Actually, I was hoping you could give me a ride to my car.”
He lifted his arm, his bicep flexing as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. “You’re going somewhere? Before I’ve gotten a chance to touch you?” It looked like he was trying to flatten his bed head. He didn’t need to. His messiness was as sexy as his voice.
“I have to.” He already knew I didn’t have to go to work until later today. Before I could explain further, I noticed his eyes were no longer watching mine. They had wandered to my braless chest. My nipples were so hard, they poked through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. I zipped up the hoodie I wore over it.
“Why cover them?” he asked. “I’ve already seen them. I dreamed about them last night.”
I chose not to respond to that. “I’m meeting my mom for coffee.”
His eyes lit up. ”Maybe I could join you before I head to the work site…” He paused, waiting for more of a reaction or waiting for me to change my plans. I was too frozen to do either. It was only a matter of time before he started asking about my family. I wanted to avoid that conversation for as long as I could. “Or maybe that’s not a good idea,” he said finally. “I’ll take you to your car, then. But only if you promise to come back tonight.”
My back pressed against the doorframe, and my hands reached behind me and squeezed the wood. The longer his naked body teased me, the harder it was to restrain myself. “I won’t get off until—”
“Won’t ‘get off’?” he sa
id, laughing his throaty, thunderous laugh. “Just because you didn’t want to sleep in my bed last night doesn’t mean I don’t want to wake up to you tomorrow morning.”
The way he wanted me—the way he was pursuing me—was enticing. It wasn’t just our prior sexual chemistry that drew me closer. His hands were already inspiring feelings stronger than any orgasm his fingers could ever produce. Hands like Hart’s should brush toast crumbs from my lips every morning and tuck my hair behind my ear before I left for work. Hands like his should provide comfort and safety.
If I could only get to a place where I could tolerate that kind of touch again.
“I’ll text you before I leave Bangor,” I confirmed.
He reached for the edge of the sheet and pushed himself off the headboard. “Then I guess I’d better get dressed.” One of his legs stretched out from beneath the covering, and his foot landed on the floor. “Unless you want to watch me do that, you’ll want to close that door. You’re about to get an eyeful…we’ll see if you won’t ‘get off’ then.” He winked.
It was so fucking tempting.
I hesitated, but finally stepped out of the room and shut the door behind me. Then I went into the kitchen to wait for him.
***
My mom was sitting at a table by the front window when I came into the coffee shop. I took a seat, and she pushed a paper to-go cup toward me. “Your outfit is so cute, Rae.” I couldn’t tell if her tone was sarcastic or sincere.
I glanced down, forgetting that I was still wearing Hart’s clothes. I was already late when he dropped me at my car; I didn’t have time to go into Caleb’s house and put on something else. It also meant I still wasn’t wearing a bra…not that my chest was big enough for it to matter. Still, I felt a little half-finished.
“I was in kind of a hurry,” I said. I didn’t see her too often, and because of this, I always noticed immediately if something about her had changed. Today it was her hair. Her long locks, the same shade of blonde as mine, had been chopped to her chin, and she’d added darker lowlights. It drew out her eyes.
“You look good,” she told me. I saw her eyeing my thinness, the slight hollowing of my face that pulled my scar inward.